


The Set-Up

by Oberwald



Series: Cheery and Bashfull (Slight AU where Raising Steam Never Happened) [1]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, First Time, Gen, Romance, cheery is so adorable, discussion of dwarf law and sexy times, discussion of sexual assualt in later chapters, so is angua
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 06:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12551652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oberwald/pseuds/Oberwald
Summary: Grag Bashfull Bashfullsson and Sergeant Cheery Littlebottom had been getting coffee, until they weren't. And then they accidentally met each other and talked to one another in low voices, until they weren't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [CHEERY'S FIRST DATE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023950) by [Zoya1416](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya1416/pseuds/Zoya1416). 



“Well, what kind of man are you looking for?” Sally asked, helping Cheery put on some eyeshadow. “Someone like Carrot, right?” 

A deep burgundy blush seeped up from underneath Cheery’s beard towards her nose. The two were getting ready to go out on a girl’s night with Angua, and Sally and Cheery had started meeting early at Sally’s palatial apartment to get dressed and gossip.

“Oh, come on, Cheery. I can hear your heartbeat. It speeds up a bit when he’s near you. And remains sped up for a minute or so after he leaves. I think you’re fantasizing about him.”

Cheery sighed and bit her lower lip.

“You won’t tell Angua, will you?” Worry caused Cheery’s voice to tremble a bit. _She is so cute sometimes,_ Sally sighed to herself, _and she has absolutely no idea. What a waste._

“No, no,” Sally assured her, “I wouldn’t do that. Plus, I get the sense it’s not even a large crush. There wouldn’t be much point in telling her. She would probably just shrug and say lots of girls have little crushes on Carrot.”

This, Sally knew, was a bald-faced lie. Although by conventional human standards Angua was about one hundred times more attractive than Cheery, Sally knew that Angua was both extremely protective of Carrot and a bit paranoid about the dwarf thing. When she learned that Carrot had once had a dwarf girlfriend before coming to Ankh-Morpork she had become extremely and worryingly quiet. This revelation had happened in a conversation between Carrot and Angua in front of the locker rooms in Pseudopolis Yard, where they thought no one could hear them. Sadly for them, Constable Visit did indeed hear them while he was sermonizing to the pigeons on the roof. There was a rickety air shaft which ran from the roof to the locker rooms. Most people didn’t know it, but Constable Visit could be an insufferable gossip. Most religious people were, Sally found. Anyway, the story he had told her was that Carrot, confusedly looking at Angua’s quiet and worried face, had said something along the lines of “But how can you be upset, what about Gavin—” and Angua had skulked away and refused to talk to Carrot for a full day.

“He is attractive,” Cheery said, oblivious to Sally’s thoughts, a small smile creeping over her face. Her nose wrinkled. “Too tall, though. I wouldn’t like someone, you know, kind of looming over me.”

“Oh? Well, there’s a hint. You want a dwarf. Or a very short human.”

“Oh, a dwarf, definitely,” Cheery said, laughing slightly. “I’m a little… traditional in that respect.”

“Oh?” Sally asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Really? The first openly female dwarf in Ankh-Morpork?”

To Sally’s surprise, Cheery sighed deeply and rolled her eyes. Sally had never expected to see Cheery roll her eyes. She was usually so earnest and good-natured.

“You sound like that damn Grag Bashfullsson,” Cheery said, blushing as she said the name. 

“Bashfullsson? The dwarf with the very short beard that went with us to Koom Valley?”

“Yes,” Cheery grumbled, now pulling at her beard anxiously. “We get coffee sometimes. He wants to learn more about how ‘openly female dwarfs relate to dwarf law.’ His words,” Cheery continued darkly, a bright red flush of indignation creeping over her face.

“And…these… coffee meetings… don’t go well, do they?” 

“The first time we had coffee he suggested that I shouldn’t feel like it was ‘necessary’ to carry a battle axe,” Cheery said hotly, “and when I told him I liked to carry one, he said it was surprising that I did, considering I was so unconventional, and I told him I was conventional, and he gave me this really sarcastic look.” 

“Oh my,” Sally purred, trying to hide a small smile. Cheery’s breathing was getting heavier, and her heart was positively racing. 

“And then I left, and then the next day he sent a messenger with a letter to apologize when I was at work — “

“And that annoyed you?” 

“Of course. He’s such a showboat. He was practically — practically shoving how modern he is in my face, after I told him I thought people overused paper messages for personal things, and that I don’t like the clacks—”

“You don’t like the clacks?” Sally asked, frowning.

“Well, not for personal reasons,” Cheery said impatiently. “Not when you don’t need to use them. It’s a waste of words… they write down all those messages and then just throw them away…”

Sally blinked. “I thought you got a Clacks last month when your cousin in Uberwald got engaged… and using the carrier pigeons with messages for inter-Watch communication was your idea, wasn’t it?”

Cheery was now tugging at her hair as well as her beard.

“Right, but, well, that’s work. Listen, I just try not to use them when I don’t have to. I like to think, well, I like to think it’s making some sort of difference,” Cheery said. “Less words wasted.” 

Cheery swallowed heavily, still tugging at her hair. “And so I sent one of the dwarf children who hang around outside Psuedopolis Yard to send a message back to Grag Bashfull — that’s considered, you know, the more Dwarfish thing to do than to send a _letter_ across town--”

“Wait. That’s why those dwarf kids hang around? The ones with the backwards helmets?”

“Of course. They take messages back to spouses and parents saying so-and-so will be late due to the murder or what have you. That way the dwarf officers aren’t always sending unnecessary letters. You just pay them a farthing and off they run..”

“I thought you lot were paying them to leave because they were a nuisance, always tossing their baseballs against the side of the building…” Sally said thoughtfully. 

“Well, that is a happy side effect, yes. But it teaches the youngsters responsibility,” Cheery said. “They learn not to gossip about their clients or no one will use them again, see? It’s good for them. Teaches fiscal responsibility.”

“OK, well, what did this message say?” Sally said, leaning forward on her elbows. This was getting funny.

“Oh, just that I got his message, thank you very much, and that we could meet again to talk if he liked. And you won’t believe what he did then!”

“Did he immediately send you another letter confirming when to meet again?” Sally asked dryly. Something in her mind clicked. “Wait, was _this_ the day you got that letter delivered when you were investigating the break-in at the Golem Trust? And Vimes said something really sarcastic about you being really popular?”

“Yes!” Cheery exclaimed, outrage and passion seeping out of every pore. She was almost trembling. “So embarrassing. He should know people _work_. Not just… just read things all day, like him!” 

“OK,” Sally said, laughing. “So did you stand him up the next time?”

“Stand him up?” Cheery said, frowning. “No, of course not. We got coffee weekly.”

Sally blinked. “Really?”

“Yes,” Cheery said, sighing, “he says he wants to become a better Grag and help the community be better towards openly female dwarfs, and he isn’t lying about that, he does care. He just is an idiot about it some times. Most of the times the discussions were nice. He really listened to me. And he can be very kind and interesting when he wants to be. But we often ended up arguing.”

“Got?” Sally asked. “You don’t get coffee with him anymore?”

Cheery blushed even harder. Her heart skipped a beat. 

“I, um, really upset him at the last one,” Cheery said after a moment. “It was two weeks ago…”

“Oh yes? How so?” Sally said, guessing the answer correctly in her head before she heard it. Dwarfs could be very predictably in some ways.

“I…erm… I said he was bad at providing for himself,” Cheery said, looking suddenly ashamed. “He, um, well, he told me he didn’t think I properly understood the prohibition for Dwarfs to, you know, _shave_ ,” Cheery said, shuddering slightly as if the word was extremely dirty and disgusting, “and it made me so mad - that I, well, I sort of lashed out at him. I told him he lived like a pauper and shamed his father…” Cheery said, chewing her lower lip.

“And what did he say?” Sally asked, “Let me guess, he reminded you that because he wasn’t born in Uberwald or Llamedos he doesn’t get those community-based stipend the Grags from there usually get —”

“No, he didn’t,” Cheery said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “I even brought that up because I felt so ashamed… He, well. He got very quiet and eventually said that it was true, and that’s why Kräftig Ironhammerer cut off their engagement.” 

“He was engaged to Kräftig Ironhammerer? The one who models for Shatta?”

“Yes, the one who leads whenever Jools is off sick.” Cheery nodded. “I knew they were courting, and then I knew they weren’t, but I didn’t know they had gotten engaged.” 

“She was named the second most beautiful dwarf in Ankh-Morpork in that pole the _Tanty Bugle_ did,” Sally said, watching Cheery’s face carefully. A flash of embarrassment passed over Cheery’s face. 

“That’s right,” Cheery said carefully, “and she would have gotten first place if they could decide whether or not to disqualify Jools.” 

“What happened then?” 

“Oh? Well, I just sort of looked at him, and I told him I was sorry and that I was sorry his engagement fell through, and he said he had to go, and he left.” Cheery fiddled with a strand of hair. “And, well, I haven’t seen him since.” 

Sally nodded. 

“I hope I didn’t sour his opinion of openly female dwarfs,” Cheery sighed, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. “I miss talking to him, which is odd because we did argue a lot.” She looked up at Sally and smiled a little sadly at her. “Will you braid my hair? And my beard?”

“Oh, of course,” Sally said, patting Cheery’s shoulder and starting to run her fingers through Cheery’s hair. It was very soft and, like her beard, smelled slightly of apples. She clearly used some sort of product on it. Sally wondered if Cheery was vain about that. Sally hoped she was - she needed to be vain about something.

“But I suppose it’s better this way,” Cheery said after a moment. “Those meetings did get me all upset for _days_ afterward. Sometimes it made it hard to concentrate at work.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes… How did we get on this subject, anyway?” Cheery said, frowning at her reflection in the mirror. 

“We were talking about what kind of man you would be interested in courting,” Sally said pointedly, trying not to laugh.

Cheery, however, just frowned.

“That’s strange that we got on this subject, then,” she sighed. Then she glanced at the clock above them. “Oh, we will be late for Angua if we don’t hurry…”

—

They weren’t _totally_ drunk, but they were close, Angua figured, as she strolled out of Biers. She sighed slightly. Now it was time to go to Sally’s. That’s always how these girls’ nights went these days. They went to several bars, finishing at Biers, and then went back to the comfortable silence and privacy of Sally’s place to gossip. And now, Angua was dimly aware, that it seemed like Cheery and Sally met up _before_ to apply makeup and gossip together before leaving for the first bar. This seemed strange and wrong somehow, she wondered why on earth they just didn’t get drunk and gossip happily in Sally’s apartment the whole evening. 

She suspected it was because of her, of course. She still had trouble being in a confined space with Sally for any length of time, and Sally’s apartment was even worse. 

Carrot had once asked her why she continued to go on these nights out if she disliked them so much, and Angua didn’t quite have an answer for him. She suspected it was because she was so close to Cheery, but drinking alone with Cheery just wasn’t quite the same. Carrot didn’t push the issue much; Angua strongly suspected that he was pleased that she was “making friends” with some of other female officers. That was so…so Carrot.

It happened when they were turning a corner. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Sally was saying, wiping some beer off of her dress. The dwarf she had collided with had spilled his flagon of beer on the street, and had dropped his to-go container of what appeared to be rat and cream cheese on a bun. “How silly of me. Oh… why you’re Grag Bashfullsson, right?”

“Erm… yes,” the dwarf had said, and Angua had suddenly remembered him. The dwarf who had helped out during the whole Koom Valley debacle. He was good at fighting, right? And he had even been around all of them before, for heaven’s sakes, so Angua wasn’t sure why he suddenly smelled so terrified and anxious. It didn’t look like he had been doing anything illegal. 

“Hello, Constable Sally, Sergeant Angua… Sergeant Littlebottom,” the dwarf said, bobbing his head slightly and mumbling the last name. I wonder why Cheery gets her last name used? Angua wondered. 

“Hello,” Cheery had said, tossing her hair. 

“My vord, I have spilled your dinner and your drink all over the place,” Sally said easily, wringing her hands together. “We’re just stopping at my place for a nightcap,” she continued, “why don’t you join us? I’ll give you some viskey and a boiled rat for your trouble.”

“Erm…sure,” Bashfullsson said, looking slightly stunned. Being charmed by a vampire can do that to you, Angua sighed to herself. Why on earth would Sally want Bashfullson with them? 

“Why do you have rats at your place?” she demanded, sounding slightly more petulant than she expected. “You can’t possibly eat them.”

The four of them continued to make their way towards Sally’s somewhat impressive flat. Generations of money had dictated that she didn’t have to live in Mrs. Cake’s lodging house. 

“Angua, you have something in your hair,” Sally said suddenly, “let me get it for you.”

Angua froze, a hand flying up to her unkempt hair. “I can get it myself,” she began to snap, but Sally was already behind her, leaving Bashfullsson and Cheery walking along side-by-side in the front of the little group. 

“Their hearts haven’t stopped going a mile a minute since they’ve seen each other,” Sally hissed in Angua’s ear. “We should try to throw them together.” 

“You should _really_ stay out of other people’s hearts,” Angua whispered back hotly. She glanced ahead of them, where the two were still stiffly walking. “She mentioned him to me. I don’t think they get on.”

“I think that’s a lie they’re telling themselves. Besides, we vampires know there isn’t much difference between love and hate. There is only passion and no passion. Hearts beating faster or slower. Come on, maybe we can lock them in a bedroom or something,” Sally hissed. Angua rolled her eyes. That was such a vampire thing. To assume that just by putting people in a bedroom together they would be all over each other…

 _Well, that is how you and Carrot got together—_ a voice in her head said. She told it to go sod itself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of I Never takes a turn for the better, and then a turn for the worse.

Sally, like all vampires, was very good at filling awkward silences. The group didn’t know what to do with Bashfull’s presence, and so she made jokes, filled glasses with more mead, and so on. 

“Why don’t we play a drinking game?” Sally asked after a few moments. “It’s called I Never.” 

Angua grunted into her drink while taking another sip. This was turning pretty predictable. 

“So you say something you have never done, and then if anyone else has done it they take a drink. So if I say I’ve never kissed Carrot, Angua would have to drink.”

Angua scowled at her and drank. 

“OK, since you went now, now it’s your turn,” Sally said, giving Angua a _look_ that clearly said, _think of something that might throw Cheery and Bashfull together._

“Um,” she said after a moment. “I’ve never had a sexual fantasy of anyone in this room.” Sally grinned at her, clearly proud of her, and then took a large sip of wine. 

So did everyone else. 

Angua blanched. 

“What, really? _All_ of you?”

“It’s not that surprising, really,” Cheery said, after a moment, chuckling and tossing a piece of hair behind her back. “You and Sally are very, very attractive, and va…people like Sally think about sex a lot, and I’m pretty sure most male dwarfs in Ankh-Morpork who aren’t related to me have considered fucking me.”

Angua stared. She had never expected to hear the word fucking tumble out of Cheery’s small mouth. She was always so polite. 

She glanced at Bashfull, who seemed to be alternating between looking very red and very white. 

“You think that?” Sally asked, tilting her head slightly. “That most dwarfs think about you that way?” 

“Oh yes,” Cheery said, a slight edge to her voice now. “It’s not because they like me, but it’s because I was the first, you know, openly female dwarf. Before there were more openly-female dwarfs running around I could tell, you know, the way male dwarfs looked at me. It wasn’t, you know, a nice look.”

Angua stared at her, her heart breaking for her slightly. Poor Cheery. She had never said. Bashfull was staring at Cheery with an odd mixture of admiration and dread. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, his voice slightly hoarse. “That I… you know… have…well, I have thought of you like that…”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Cheery said, suddenly sounding embarrassed. “I mean, you never have leered at me. And besides, people have fantasies. I mean, I’ve had them, right?” Cheery looked away from Bashfull’s gaze. “I’ve had fantasies about you, Angua,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry, Angua. They were... a long time ago.”

“What, really?” Angua said, blushing so hard she didn’t notice Bashfull’s expression, which now looked as if it was trying to figure out whether to be crestfallen that Cheery was not thinking of him, or very excited at the prospect of Cheery thinking of Angua.

“We’ve lasted on this one too long,” Sally said dryly. “It’s your turn, Cheery.”

“Hmm,” Cheery thought for a moment, tucking her small legs underneath her on her seat. “I’ve never been in dr’grzker.”

No one drank.

“Really?” Cheery asked, surprised. 

“What’s that?” Angua asked. At this question, Cheery blushed, grinned, and — to Angua’s surprise — glanced at Bashfull, who said something very quickly in Dwarfish which made Cheery smirk slightly. 

“What was that?” Angua demanded. 

“I heard it,” Sally said, smiling slightly. “He said, ‘Well her man is also kind of a human, not just a dwarf, you know.’”

“What?” Angua demanded, blushing. “What is it?”

Cheery took a sip of her sherry and grinned slightly. 

“You neither, Grag Bashfull?” she asked, teasing him slightly. “You were engaged.”

“For a short time,” Bashfull said, smiling back at her, blushing a bit. “We kissed a bit, that’s all.”

“What are you talking about?” Angua cried, now blushing even more furiously. 

“You know when dwarfs want to get married, they buy them off the other’s parents?” Cheery asked patiently.

“Er…” Angua answered, surprised. She hadn’t known that.

“OK, so you didn’t know that. Well, all that saving up can take a long time. Years and years.” Cheery explained, still smiling shyly. “And that’s a long time to wait, for, you know.”

“Oh.” Angua said, blushing.

“But dwarf law is, well, traditionally, very explicit against pre-marital sex,” Bashfull said, looking a bit more comfortable about this conversation now it was about dwarf law. “Dwarf law doesn’t want a lot of children of unmarried parents running around - it can make inheritances very complicated. So dr’grzker is a kind of marriage inside of an engagement. You sign a contract with the other person, stating your intention to wed, and traditionally exchange rings. Then you can live with the engaged person, and do… well, certain acts.”

“Things that can’t cause a child to be born,” Cheery finished. 

“The word comes from a conjunction of the words ‘hand’ and ‘mouth’ in Dwarfish.” Bashful said pointedly.

“No it doesn’t,” Cheery said, rolling her eyes. 

“It does,” Bashfull insisted. 

“Really?” Cheery asked, looking doubtful.

“Yes.”

“I thought it came from the ancient dwarf word for young love —”

“That’s what parents say to kids when they don’t want to tell them what oral or digital sex is,” Bashfull said dryly. “Really. It’s a kind of myth, that story.”

“Is that a common problem? Are dwarf kids running around asking for the etiology of words?” Sally asked dryly.

“Well, kind of,” Cheery said, frowning. Bashfull gave her a little sideways smile, Angua noticed while trying not to furiously blush so much.

“Traditional dwarf education is very heavy on the linguistics,” Bashfull explained. “So the youngsters do often ask about the origins of words. You must have been trained in a traditional school, Cheery?”

“Oh? I went to one of the Iron-ore Academies. The one outside of Schlitz. Our mascot was a mole.”

“Really?” Bashfull said, sounding impressed. “Those are very, very good schools.”

“Mmm.” Cheery said. “I was on an pre-alchemy scholarship. Then I finished the alchemy coursework at the guild finishing school in Bonk. And then after the, uh, incident happened at the Alchemist Guild here, I, uh, got the job at the watch.”

“What inci—” Bashfull started. 

“All right, now you go, Bashfull.” Sally cut in. “You had to explain the last one, anyway.”

“Er,” Bashful said. “Well… Hm. I’ve never been in love,” he said after some thought. 

Sally drank immediately, which stunned Angua, and then Angua, blushing furiously, took an angry little sip. 

“You were _engaged_!” Cheery said, turning on Bashfull. “What do you mean you weren’t in love?”

“It was a silly engagement,” Bashful said, shrugging. “I…well. You looked so sad for me when I told you we broke up. It’s not… I mean, I was sad. But not that sad.”

Cheery looked at Bashfull and wrinkled her nose at him.

“Why under earth would you get engaged to her, then?” Cheery demanded. “Because she’s beautiful?”

“Well…partly,” Bashfull said, looking slightly ashamed. “But she was kind to me, and listened to me, and her family is, you know…”

“She was pretty and rich,” Cheery said, shaking her head slightly. “And she listened to you. Good grief, you need to have higher standards than that, Bashfull.”

“Do I?” Bashfull asked gruffly. “I’m not getting a lot of asks at the moment.”

Cheery was about to say something and shut her mouth. Then she opened it again.

“You’ll get less than ever if you rush into a silly marriage and then get a divorce. The marriage rates of dwarf divorcees is pretty low, especially in Ankh-Morpork.”

“Dwarfs can get divorced?” Angua asked. 

“Of course. We’re not _animals_ ,” Cheery said, sounding exasperated. 

“I’ve heard werewolves don’t,” Angua said dryly after a moment. “But then, maybe they are animals.”

Cheery blushed deeply and looked horrified. 

“Well… sometimes they’re animals, anyway.” Bashfull laughed slightly, oblivious to Cheery’s look of alarm that she gave him. Angua narrowed her eyes at him slightly. “They’re very loyal in their relationships, I hear,” Bashfull continued, taking another little sip. “In their way.”

Well, that was true, Angua begrudgingly admitted to herself. Gods knew her parents hated each other but still managed to sleep in the same bed - or basket - every night. 

But oral or digital sex, she thought to herself, blushing slightly. She had to… think about that. 

“Angua, come into the kitchen with me and help me bring out some more drinks,” Sally said, after a moment. Angua sighed. Sally could be so predictable. She glanced over at Cheery to make sure she would be all right alone with Bashfull - Cheery gave her a small little smile and nodded. 

—

“Is oral sex a common thing for humans to do?” Angua hissed at Sally as Sally rooted around her drinks cabinet for more sherry.

Sally snorted. 

“Yes, Angua,” she said, sighing. “I can’t believe you and Carrot haven’t tried it…” Pulling out the sherry, she cocked an eyebrow at her and studied her for a moment. 

“Oh, I see,” she said, sitting down the sherry on the counter-top behind her. “You poor thing.”

“I am not a poor thing,” Angua said hotly. “Besides, I very much doubt you know much about my… my sex life.”

“I bet you try very, very hard to be very, very human,” Sally said, grinning at her. “You’re scared of too much licking, too much slobbering, too much noise…” 

“Oh shut up,” Angua growled at her, blushing a deep purple. 

“It’s okay,” Sally shrugged. “It makes sense. A lot of black ribboners are terrified of kissing their partner’s necks. Too many memories. But I say it’s best to get over those species-specific hangups as quickly as possible. The neck is a very, very sensitive part of the body, you know.” 

Sally’s gaze lingered on Angua’s neck for a bit longer than she would have liked. 

“And humans are animals,” Sally continued, smiling slightly. “No harm in acting animalistic once in a while. Maybe try something new with old Carrot. Give him a nice shock.”

“I thought black ribboners were celibate,” Angua muttered to herself, moving slightly to get out of Sally’s gaze.

“When we mean celibate, we mean biting. Not sex.”

“Hmmm.” Angua said, carefully tucking a stray piece of her hair behind her ear and nodded towards the door out to the living room. “How much alone time were you going to give them, anyway?”

At that moment they Cheery shouting something incoherent in Dwarfish, sounding like she was about to cry. Angua had burst into the room and had grabbed the collar of Bashfull’s leather shirt in an instant, before she had even really recognized she had done it. 

“Did he try anything, Cheery?” Angua demanded, lifting Bashfull slightly off the ground. He looked terrified. 

“No, no,” Cheery said wiping some tears away from her face. “Nothing like that. Just a… a disagreement. Put him down, Angua.”

Angua glared at him as she dropped him on the ground. Bashful stood up, looking very red and very… well…

He was staring at Cheery with a kind of sorrowful tenderness which made Angua’s heart contract slightly. 

“Sh’rt’azs,” Bashfull said softly, using Cheery’s dwarfish name, looking at her intently. He mumbled something else in Dwarfish, something long and formal-sounding. Angua couldn’t quite catch what it was but it seemed to make Cheery cry harder. 

“Get out!” Angua growled at him. “You’re upsetting her!”

And with that, Bashfull sighed, nodded, and quietly left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some reflections on I Never, and a discussion in the alchemy office at Psuedopolis Yard.

It had been going well, Bashfull thought to himself, his heart hammering and his head ringing.

Why was he so stupid when he was around her? He always seemed to say the wrong thing. He always upset her. Sometimes she even upset him.

They had been talking about, well, normal things — what background their parents came from, how many siblings they had, that sort of thing. He had even made her laugh, and that had been a wonderful, exhilarating moment, seeing the small flash of the her silver eyeshadow as she shut her eyes and threw her head back slightly, chuckling. It had made Bashfull’s heart flip over, and he had asked her something he had wondered countless times.

“How did your family react when you came out?” 

Cheery had stiffened, and taken a little sip of her drink. 

“Fine,” she said, shrugging slightly. She was very obviously lying. He should have left it at that. She clearly didn’t want to talk about it. But he had wanted to feel close to her, wanted to know what had happened to her, and wanted to make her feel like he was someone she could confide in.

“Come on,” he said, smiling slightly. “Tell me.”

“Maybe I don’t want to tell you,” Cheery had snapped suddenly. “I’m not required to tell you my…my pain you know. What, does it make you feel better somehow, to know that my parents didn’t talk to me for months and that my uncle said he would fuck me whether I liked it or not if he ever saw me again? And that when I saw him in a street in Ankh-Morpork he dragged me in an alley and who knows what would have happened if Foul Old Ron hadn’t been there and pulled him off me? Does that make you feel like a big, strong, benevolent Grag knowing that you are so much better than my uncle?” 

“I…” Bashfull had started, his heart dropping into his knees. His body ached for her. He wanted to hold her, to gently stroke her hair, to tell her that she could be safe with him, and he hated himself for it. That was probably the last thing she needed, a strange male Grag touching her. And she was, in a way, right, he knew. He had started seeing her to buttress his own reputation as a liberal, forward-thinking Grag. He felt sleazy and disgusting while simultaneously wanting to kiss her. It was extremely uncomfortable.

And then suddenly he was in the air, his face extremely close to Sergeant Angua’s face, Angua yelling at him, wondering if he had tried to rape her. He hadn’t, he remembered thinking. But he had treated her memories like they were something that belonged to him, not her. 

He had stared at her, now weeping as Sally sat beside her, giving her a little sideways hug and him a little sideways smile - he still didn’t know what to make of that, to be honest - and he had, well. He had quoted scripture at her. 

Probably not his best move. She probably hated him now. Or hated him more than she had before. 

_And you’re still thinking about yourself_ , a voice in his head told him sternly. _Not even thinking about her. You’re despicable_ , the voice said. Bashfull put his head in his hands and started to cry quietly.

—

Carrot had been perfect, as usual. He had taken one look at the two of them, Cheery leaning heavily on Angua, her eyes red and her beard damp with tears, sweat, and snot, and Angua looking concerned and sheepish, and had immediately said he would sleep at Psuedopolis Yard. 

Once he had left, Cheery sat on the small bed and started to wipe off her beard and asked her quietly if they could share the bed.

“No funny business,” Cheery had said, smiling slightly. “I know I said I had fantasies about you, but that was a long time ago. I’ve started kind of thinking of you as… as an adopted sister now.”

Angua smiled at her. 

“Sure,” she said, patting Cheery’s head. 

It wasn’t until they were under the sheets and Cheery’s head was buried into her shoulder in a way that felt companionable and completely non-sexual, did Angua feel comfortable asking her what Bashfull had said right before he left.

“Oh, that,” Cheery had whispered. “It was a quote from a book of dwarf law. Translated it means something like ‘You are the light in the closing mine shaft, you remain cheery even when your problems are like the rocks in a collapsing cavern.’ My dwarfish name comes from the line.”

“Oh,” Angua had said, wondering why on earth that had made her start to sob.

“He asked me about my family,” Cheery had finally whispered into Angua’s neck.

Angua had blinked and frowned. 

“Is that all?” she whispered, one of her hands slowly stroking Cheery’s hair.

“I told him my uncle tried to rape me,” Cheery had whispered. “I haven’t told anyone.”

Angua froze. 

“What?” She had asked, dull panic and rage growing in the pit of her stomach.

And the whole story tumbled out of Cheery - it had happened around the time of the whole damn banking business, and they were so busy. Her uncle had been in town on business, and had seen her, pulled her aside, hit her and started to undress her when Foul Old Ron had stumbled up and lifted him off her and Cheery had ran away. 

That had been last night. Now she was in Biers, talking to two of the werewolves in Ankh-Morpork who could be hired to do a specific kind of work. Who would even travel to Uberwald to do it. 

“Hard, sometimes, to find the right dwarf,” one said, scratching his nose with an extremely long fingernail. “They tend to stick together in groups.”

“Well, find him,” Angua said darkly. “And make sure he can’t hurt anyone again.”

—

The family that Bashfull rented the small bedroom from was usually out during the day, so when the knock at the door came, almost a month after the disastrous game of I Never, Bashfull was the only one home to answer it. 

It was a small dwarf who beamed at him. 

“Message, guv!” The dwarf said in Ankh-Morporkian. Bashfull frowned at him. 

“You should speak as much Dwarfish as possible when you’re young to keep up with it,” he scolded the youth in Dwarfish. 

“Your Dwarfish accent sucks,” the youth said in beautiful Dwarfish. 

“All right, what is it?” Bashfull said, sighing. 

“Sergeant Littlebottom up at the Pseudopolis Yard says she wants to talk to you and would you come at her lunch hour at 1 pee-emm, she says you can talk to her in the alchemy office cuz it will be empty.” The youth gave Bashfull a large wink. 

“Stop that,” Bashfull commanded, blushing slightly. 

“Want a return message?” 

“Yes, yes, tell her I’ll be there,” Bashfull said, rooting around in his pocket for some spare change. 

“Nah, it’s on the house, Mister Grag,” the boy said, grinning at him and waving his hand. 

“Why?” Bashfull asked suspiciously.

“I have to go back there anyway. Plus, in school we learned that you shouldn’t charge for services rendered for mining disasters, and in the Big City affairs that keep the passions in line are the closest thing to mining disasters we have,” the youth explained, winking again at him. 

“Really?” Bashfull said, staring at youth dumbly. “Who will tell the matchmakers?” 

“That’s different, teacher says,” the boy explained, “coz they deal with setting up passions, not maintaining them.” 

“Where do you go to school?” Bashfull asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

“Just the one down the street,” the youth said, tapping his backwards-turned helmet and scurrying away. 

—

Cheery had told the human at reception — well, Bashfull thought to himself, it probably wasn’t called a reception, but he didn’t know what it was called — that she had a lunch meeting with Grag Bashfullson, so he was walked up with very little ceremony or fuss. 

“Hello,” Cheery said, looking up from two beakers in front of her. One was filled with something that looked suspiciously like blood, the other was resting on top of a small fire and smelled strongly of ammonia. “Thanks for, um, coming.”

She stood up awkwardly walked up towards him. She was flushed and her hair was slightly frizzy, a part of her beard slightly matted down with sweat. Bashfull’s heart did small little flipflops. 

“I have something for you,” Bashfull said, his voice deeper and hoarser than he would have liked, and, his hand trembling slightly, pulled out a small piece of paper. 

Cheery took it and inspected it.

“It’s a meeting time and place?” 

“It’s a support group for people who have been, um, assaulted. Like you almost were. For dwarfs.”

Cheery stared at him as if he had two heads. She glanced down at the sheet of paper in her hand again.

“That exists?” she asked, mystified. 

“Yes,” Bashfull said simply. “As a Grag, you know. You learn about this sort of thing. Pastoral care, the humans call it.”

“I didn’t think this had ever happened to any other dwarf but me,” Cheery said, frowning slightly at the piece of paper and turning it over in her hands. 

“Yes, that’s a common feeling,” Bashfull said after a small pause. “Almost everyone there thinks that, I’ve been told.”

“Oh,” Cheery said quietly. 

Bashfull blushed deeply, realizing how close they were standing to one another. It didn’t feel quite right, talking about this with her standing there, so close that he could even smell her underneath the ammonia. But she had walked up to him, a terrified voice inside of him said. What would it look like to her if he took a step back?

Cheery bit her lower lip and looked up at him shyly. Bashfull swallowed hard and tried not to tremble. 

“Thank you,” she said softly, putting the piece of paper in her pocket. She cleared her throat slightly and looked away, taking a very small step away from him. “I’m sorry. For getting all upset last month. I know you didn’t mean it. And for implying you weren’t a successful Grag.”

“Oh,” Bashfull said. “It’s fine. Don’t mention it.”

“I think you’re a wonderful Grag,” Cheery continued, still not meeting his eyes. “You care about people and the laws, not just the laws.”

“Thank you,” Bashfull said, feeling slightly dizzy. 

Cheery coughed slightly. 

“And… I think I told you about my uncle because I really wanted to, somewhere inside of me. I told Sergeant Angua later that night. It was…nice, to talk about it.”

Bashfull nodded, looking at her softly.

“And since talking about it, I feel… better. Like I can move forward.”

“Move forward?”

“Yes, I feel like I can put it behind me. Think a bit more seriously about courting. The idea of it used to scare me, a bit.”

Bashfull nodded, his mouth dry.

“And I’ve been talking about it to that orc, Mister Nutt, who helps people with problems by talking them out,” Cheery continued, “and he thought it might be good for me to meet you and tell you that, you know. Everything worked out. You shouldn’t feel… bad, or something.”

Bashfull nodded again, not knowing what to say.

“Um, that’s all I wanted to say, if you needed to go…” Cheery said awkwardly. 

Oh, Bashfull thought. He should go.

But a small voice inside of him rebelled, told him it was now or never, and before he could stop himself words were falling out of his mouth.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice once again hoarser than he’d ever heard it before. “For what happened to you. I’m so sorry I pushed it out of you. I’m sorry for thinking the only thing you were was openly female. I’m sorry that’s what most dwarfs think when they see you.”

“Well, maybe that is all I am,” Cheery said, forcing a small laugh. “It’s a big part of me, I suppose.”

“Oh, Cheery,” he sighed, his heart pounding, “you’re so wonderful. You work diligently at your job, and you… you listen to people. You really think about what they are saying. You are kind, and smart, and you care so much about being a Dwarf, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who cares about being a dwarf as much as you.”

Cheery was now staring at the floor with the kind of determination usually reserved for staring contests. She was breathing very fast. 

“And you make me feel so _special_ when I’m around you, it’s just… amazing. Even when we’re fighting, the way you think so hard about everything I say, most people just sort of start to glaze over after a while…”

He was talking much more than was customary for a dwarf, he knew, but that was what he did, read and think, and think and talk.

After what felt like an eternity, Cheery, one hand nervously playing with a bit of hair that had come loose from her braid, looked up and stepped closer to him. 

And then the door burst open and Commander Vimes had rushed in. 

“Cheery! Grab your kit and come on, there’s been a break-in at the—” Vimes had stopped after he saw Bashfull.

“Er,” he said blankly, staring at him. “Grag Bashfull Bashfullsson, right?”

“Yes,” Bashfull said quickly, stepping away from Cheery and smiling at him. “I just had some quick things to discuss with Sergeant Littlebottom and she was kind enough to let us meet in the office. I’ll be off now,” he continued, trying to give a professional little nod to Cheery, “And thank you, Sergeant.” 

He ran out.


	4. Chapter 4

“Was he… was he _trying_ anything with you, Cheery?” Vimes asked gruffly as he and Cheery walked quickly towards Teemer and Spools. 

“No, no,” Cheery said, quickly, blushing. “I think he might have been telling me he loved me.”

“Er,” Vimes said.

“Sorry, sir,” Cheery said quickly. “That just sort of spilled out of me.”

“Well, just keep your wits about you at this crime scene,” Vimes said gruffly. 

A moment or two passed as they continued to hurry towards the shop. 

“He’s a nice man, that Bashfull Bashfullsson. Smart, too.” Vimes said thoughtfully after a moment.

“Yes, sir.”

“But only if you like him,” Vimes continued. “If you don’t like him he’s a braggart and an… an… _intellectual_.” 

Cheery gave him a little sideways smile. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Vimes awkwardly patted her on the back as he ushered her into the recently-burglarized store. 

—

It had been a long day, Cheery thought to herself as she talked to the strange woman in the geology shop. She wondered if she should wait until tomorrow. 

But she was here, she thought to herself, once the shopkeeper had changed personalities and directed her to a flight of stairs. She had already checked at Bashfull’s home and he wasn’t there. She had fibbed about that, slightly, she had told his landlady he had information pertaining to a crime, which wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but it had been a long day. And she wanted, more than anything, to talk to him.

She realized when she was halfway down the stars that she looked terrible. Ink from the printing shop caked over her hands, smeared over her face and beard, and she knew her hair smelled strongly of the snails that Teemer and Spools used to make the deep purple which was used on the one-dollar bills. But it was too late to go back now. 

She clattered down the stairs, blinking in the brilliant light of the small room. About ten Thud tables were set up, and five were in use. Bashfull was at one, studying the board intently, sitting across from a smallish troll. When he saw her coming down the stairs he stood up so quickly his chair crashed behind him, causing everyone else to crane their head up and stare at Cheery. 

“I forfeit,” Bashfull mumbled, knocking over a large troll piece on the board. He hurried towards her. 

“I wondered if you wanted to come over to my place and have some coffee and talk,” Cheery whispered, blushing furiously. “I’ve had a long day, but I… I want to talk.”

“Yes, yes,” Bashfull murmured, looking at her in a way that she was sure she hadn’t been looked at before. “Let’s go.”

One of the Thud-playing-dwarfs gave a long and loud wolf whistle, causing a general tittering and guffawing in the room below them. Bashfull turned around to glare at them as they clattered up the stairs. 

—

Cheery lived in a one-room apartment near the edge of the dwarf part of town. She lived on the second floor and, because dwarfs liked to live as far down in the ground as possible, she was able to get a comparatively large room. She kept the heavy curtains drawn at all times, as was common in dwarf houses above ground, always lighting the room with oil lamps to make it feel like it was at least slightly underground. 

Bashfull hungrily looked around, trying to soak in as much information about her as he could. 

It was sparsely furnished, she had an extremely small stove, a bed, a vanity, and a dresser which seemed to do double-duty as a desk. Alchemy equipment, several books on alchemy, and several classic books dealing with dwarf law were neatly stacked against the wall. There was an iconograph of Cheery with what looked like a family of trolls — one was Sergeant Detritus, and Bashfull thought another might have been that young drugged-up troll who had been that witness in the Koom Valley case. Another iconograph with Cheery next to Angua and Captain Carrot outside the Dwarf Bread Museum lay next to it. A third iconograph, cut out from the newspaper, lay next to it. In it Cheery was frowning at a chalk outline of a person, a very large blonde dog sitting next to her. There were no pictures of her family. A tube of something Bashfull didn’t recognize was sitting on top of one of the books. He peered slightly closer at it. 

“It’s lipstick,” Cheery said, fiddling with a kettle on the stove. 

“Oh.” Bashfull said, blushing slightly. “I’ve never seen one in the container before.”

“Why don’t you have a seat while I sort of wash up a bit,” Cheery said, nodding towards the bed. “I’m sorry I don’t have any chairs.”

Bashfull’s heart pounded against his ribs as he watched Cheery pour some of the water from a pitcher on her vanity into a washbasin and carefully pour some liquid soap into the water. 

“Can you tell me where you were today?” Bashfull said, staring at her as she lifted her helmet off and she scrubbed her hands and her face, the water in the basin becoming brackish. 

“Well, the _Times_ have already reported that there was a robbery at Teemer and Spools. 15 gallons of ink used only at the Royal Mint was stolen, almost certainly by a forger, and I’m covered in ink, so I’m sure you’d figure it out eventually,” Cheery said, now splashing some more clean water on her beard. “Maybe I should have showered at Psuedopolis Yard.”

“I don’t mind watching you — I mean,” Bashfull said, trying not to think too hard about what Cheery would look like bathing. “I mean, I don’t mind.”

Cheery gave him a small little smile and started scrubbing her face with a washcloth.

The kettle whistled and Cheery hurried over to make herself and Bashfull some coffee, sighing as she took a big sip of it and sighed deeply.

“I was thinking about what you said to me today,” she said softly putting the cup down and heading back over to the vanity. “Or maybe by this time it’s yesterday.”

“Yes?” Bashfull breathed, the cup in his hands trembling a bit.

Cheery hesitated a moment. 

“Will you help me get the back of my neck and my hair?” She asked him, nodding towards the damp washcloth in her hand. 

“Yes,” Bashfull said, setting down the coffee and moving over towards her and taking the washcloth from her. Cheery gathered up her hair and pulled it over one shoulder, exposing a very long and very white neck. Ink covered much of the back of it. Bashfull swallowed hard. 

“Is this all right?” he breathed, pressing the washcloth gently against her neck and scrubbing slightly. 

“Yes,” Cheery said softly. “It’s hard to get off, you might have to scrub.”

Bashful did, and then carefully saturated the washcloth with soap and water and began cleaning her long hair, gently using his fingers to comb through it once the ink was gone. When he got to the top of her head and carefully raked his fingers down the whole length of her hair, Cheery shuddered slightly. 

“Is it okay?” Bashfull whispered. 

“Yes, it just feels good,” Cheery whispered back, a red blush now spreading over her white neck.

“You said you were thinking about what I said to you earlier today,” Bashfull prompted, now softly wiping some of stray ink off of Cheery’s right ear, deliriously enjoying every breath Cheery breathed so close to him.

“Ah…” Cheery said softly. “I, um.” Cheery swallowed hard. Bashfull could feel the heat coming off of her; she seemed to be getting hotter every passing second he was behind her like this. “When we were playing that game with Angua and Sally, I lied,” she whispered. 

“Oh?”

“I’ve had sexual fantasies of you before,” she whispered. “Not only of Angua.”

“Oh.” Bashfull said, moving the washcloth to her left ear, ignoring the fact that there wasn’t any ink there to wipe off. 

“And, um. Ever since our, um, second meeting, you’ve made me feel special too,” Cheery continued. “Like you… you care about not upsetting me, and like you… well, you want to learn more about me. And when we stopped meeting, I missed it. And… and I really liked talking to you at Sally’s. Before I got all upset.”

“Oh.” Bashfull said. His heart pounding, he leaned in near her ear and whispered in it, “I think some ink got under your beard, can I?”

“Yes,” Cheery panted, leaning back against him. He lifted her beard and looked down at her neck and the top of her chest and started wiping it off, slowly.

“Are you attracted to me?” Cheery asked suddenly, gasping slightly as Bashfull moved the washcloth down towards the inside of the collar of her uniform. “I’m no Kraftig Ironhammerer.”

“Mmmhmm,” Bashfull said, “Very much.”

Cheery looked like she was deciding something and then, looking terrified and proud, turned around and looked up at Bashfull. 

“Well,” she said, looking at him, her eyes dark and her voice trembling. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

—

Dr’grzker, the “little marriage within an engagement” was extremely easy to enter into, and just as easy to annul. All that was required was for two dwarfs of adult age to sign a sheet of paper stating they would like to one day marry, and exchange rings that were, if not gold, at least goldish. Annulment was just as easy - the rings simply had to be melted down, and the piece of paper ripped in half, each dwarf taking the half with their signature on it. 

This meant, of course, that particularly amorous young dwarfs could enter into Dr’grzker with many, many people before actually intending to marry someone. This was considered not a great sin in Dwarfish culture, but something more akin to the tendency of the youth to drink too much and then show up late to work the next morning. Besides, if these young amorous dwarfs were following the edicts of Dr’grzker properly, they wouldn’t have any pesky children running around in nine months time. It was even not uncommon for young dwarfs to have “one-night” Dr’grzker, which is exactly what it sounds like.

This means that in the dwarfish areas of Ankh-Morpork there is a relatively constant demand for cheap goldish rings at all hours of the night.

There was a queue, then, when Bashfull lined up at the little stall to buy the rings and the helpfully printed out form where all you had to do was sign (useful for the dwarfs who didn’t want to spend the time writing out “I intend to marry you” before getting down to business).

He felt a bit nervous. The dwarfs in front of him were, well. He knew several of them. They had reputations. Of being fast, of knowing a great many people, of going to the parties Madame Sharn and Pepe hosted. That didn’t mean they weren’t good workers or good dwarfs, Bashfull knew. In fact, most of them were slated to become very important in the dwarf community once they got a bit older. There was one of the Stronginthearms, who was saidto be even better at making battle axes than his father, holding another male dwarf very close to him. He whispered something into his partner's ear and then bit it. 

Bashfull looked away, embarrassed. 

Cheery had asked him, in between little gasps as he kissed her neck, if he wanted to enter into Dr’gzker with her. He had stopped, looking at her in shock. 

“You want to?” he had whispered. “We don’t have to. I don’t mind just… just kissing. I’m still interested.”

“I want to,” Cheery had whispered, biting her lower lip. “But we can wait if you want to.”

He had stared at her for a moment, panting slightly, when Cheery had leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.

“My breasts are very soft,” she had whispered, “sometimes when I touch them I can’t even believe how soft they are.”

And Bashfull had groaned, and quickly said that he would go get the rings. Cheery had smiled at him, a sweet little smile that made him want her so much he almost wanted to die. 

But at no point had either one of them actually said they wanted to marry the other one. Hmm. He hoped she did. He didn’t know how he would feel if after all this he just wanted something casual. Well, he did. He would feel terrible. Tears and pulling of his beard would be involved. 

—

Cheery sat in her bed, stroking her hair and smiling to herself. 

She felt, well, sexy. And it was nice. She liked seeing Bashfull fuss over her, getting all tongue-tied. And he made her feel tongue-tied too, that was true. But she felt tongue-tied frequently - it seemed more remarkable when Bashfull, who was so good with words, got all hot and bothered. 

Bashfull came in a few minutes later, looking a bit embarrassed. He held up the rings and the small form that they came with. 

“Got them,” he said gruffly. He sat on the side of the bed as Cheery stood up to grab a pen. She could feel Bashfull’s eyes on her as he did so. 

She handed him the pen.

He hesitated, looking at her. 

“We don’t have to,” Cheery said, frowning a bit. “If you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” Bashfull said. “But…”

 _Uh-oh_ , Cheery thought to herself, her stomach clenching.

“I _really_ want to marry you,” he said softly and Cheery exhaled slowly, her face red.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I want to marry you too.”

Bashfull looked surprised. 

“Really?” he asked. “I don’t make a lot of money…”

“That’s all right,” Cheery said quickly. “Sergeants make enough. And your work is important. I expect you’ll make lots of money someday.”

Bashfull blushed and smiled at her.

“But,” Cheery said, “I think I will be very busy for a while. If the forgeries are any good, I’ll need to spend a lot of time checking dollar bills to see if they are fakes or not.”

“You can do that?” Bashfull said, impressed. Cheery nodded. 

“And we’ll have to try and figure out where they are coming from. Lots of long nights. I might not have time to get audited for a while.”

Auditors were those dwarfs who calculated how much dwarfs were worth and how much their prospective dwarf-to-be had to pay to buy the dwarf off of their parents. 

“That’s all right,” Bashfull said at once, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Cheery’s ear. “Your work is important.”

Cheery grinned at him. 

—

After the two of them had finished all the activities Dr’gzker entitled them to, they lay panting and staring into each other eyes and smiling, as is traditional. 

“Why did you decide to get coffee with me, anyway?” Cheery asked, smiling slightly. “There are lots of openly female dwarfs now.”

“Believe it or not, it was Vetinari’s idea,” Bashfull said, gently tugging at Cheery’s ear. “He sort of summoned me for a meeting with him and told me he thought it would be good idea for me, as a liberal Grag, to get to know the first openly female dwarf better.” 

“What?” Cheery demanded, going pale and sitting up. “What do you mean, _Vetinari_?”

Bashfull looked at Cheery’s expression and blinked. 

“Well, I don’t think he thought _this_ would happen,” Bashfull said, nodding towards the bed. He paused. “Do you?”

—

Rufus Drumknott answered the door of the Oblong Office and exchanged a few whispered sentences with the clerk standing on the other side of it. After a few seconds, he nodded and silently shut the door, the clerk dashing away.

“What was that, Drumknott?” Vetinari asked, studying the Thud game in front of him carefully. 

“Apparently the Grag Bashfullsson spent the night at Sergeant Littlebottom’s residence last night,” Drumknott said, no trace of embarrassment in his voice. “And he stepped outside at around two in the morning to buy some rings, apparently for some kind of dwarf engagement.”

“Ah, yes, Dr’gzker,” Vetinari said, smiling to himself. “They say dwarfs do not talk about sex much, Drumknott. But they certainly seem to have an understanding of how sex operates in the mind of young people. Well, it certainly took them long enough.”

“My lord?” Drumknott asked, after a moment. Vetinari looked at him, an eyebrow raised. 

“Yes, Drumknott?”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why were you interested in, well, ‘setting up’ these two? You hardly seem interested in most people's... _affairs_.”

Vetinari carefully moved a dwarf piece on the Thud board and smiled slightly to himself. 

“Ankh-Morpork is a city where the first openly female dwarf can marry a Grag,” he said. “A city where dwarfs can be just as Ankh-Morporkian and just as Dwarfish as they like. News of their upcoming wedding will make quite a stir in Uberwald, I am sure.”

“Indeed,” Drumknott said, feeling not for the first time that there was something very frightening about Vetinari.


End file.
